Of course, if he's ill or in
desperate straits-- Well, here is another hundred which you may offer
or not, as you find best. I am relying, you see, on your somewhat
remarkable facility for rescuing truth from the bottom of the well or
any other foolish hiding-place."
"Meanin', I expect," says I, "that you're after a sort of general
report, eh?"
"Quite so," says Mr. Robert. "You see, it's a business errand, in a
way. You go as a probing committee of one, with full powers."
"It's a tough assignment," says I, "but I'll do my best."
For I'd seen enough of Ham Adams to know he wa'n't the kind to open up
easy. One of these bull-necked husks, Mr. Adams is, with all the
pleasin' manners of a jail warden. Honest, in all the times he's been
into the Corrugated general offices, I've never seen him give anyone
but Mr. Robert so much as a nod. Always marched in like he was goin'
to trample you under foot if you didn't get out of his way, and he had
a habit of scowlin' over your head like he didn't see you at all.
I expect that was his idea of keeping the lower classes in their place.
He was an income aristocrat, Ham was. Always had been. Phosphate
mines down South somewheres, left to him by an aunt who had brought him
up.
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